2014.01.09 - Weapon (+) Talk
It might be day time in Westchester, but damn it... It's cold. We're talking maybe single digits in Fahrenheit temperature wise (not counting the wind chill), thus well below freezing. And when you mix in all the snow that fell last week that got rained on and is not more like ice than snow (but not truly slippery like ice)... In other words, the park at Breakstone Lake is nearly empty. Very few people would want to try to go here. And those that would, well... Odds are they wouldn't have many, if any others near them. Normally anyways. Case in point, there is a girl dressed all in black. Sitting on a bench, despite the snow, cold, and wind. But then again, considering that this girl is one Laura Kinney, she probably has dealt with worse conditions. Then again, is she truly alone right now...? Well, there is the slow-moving snowplow trying to keep the nearby road ice-free through seeding it with salt and doing hideous noises. Old thing, the engine sounds like needs a fine tuning. Probably mildly annoying to Laura’s acute senses. That is no reason to blow it up, though. Which is what just happened. The snowplow blows up, startling a couple neighbors in the park that braved the freezing weather to walk their dogs, and some crazy jogger that decided a little snow wouldn’t stop her daily stroll (probably Canadian). So, burning wreck of a snowplow, and then a flying saucer comes flying towards Laura with a slow, casual flight. There is a masked man in white clothes on top of the saucer, and he has a bazooka. He is also waving to Laura. Funny thing, no one else is paying attention to the flying saucer, despite it being pretty... well, a shinny sphere with a ring of shinny metal around it, the size of a bus. There is a reaction to the snow plow blowing up. A sudden, swift motion as Laura bolts off of the bench, and spins to look in the direction of the now destroyed plow. The fact that the explosion was so loud should disorient her. In fact it does a little. But lots of training that others would call 'insane' at best has her honed to a point where it doesn't slow her down as much as it could. And yet, as the others react to the explosion, and apparently don't react to the flying saucer, a faint growls starts to come from the 'cloned' girls lips as her hands ball up into fists. Especially as she glares at the man with the bazooka. The man in white carefully sets down the bazooka and hops off the saucer, dropping about 30 feet but falling on his feet, with a flourish. “Laura Kinney, I presume,” he bows, gentlemanly. “You are younger I expected, mademoiselle, and better looking.” He glances back to the wreck of the plow. “Worry not. I am sure you have noticed the lack of that distinctive scent to charred human flesh. It was a drone. Remotely controlled by some unpleasant mutual acquaintances.” He is right, it the wind brings the smell of burned circuitry. Nothing from the man or his machine, though. He has no scent. He has a strong, fake-sounding French accent, though. Unpleasent mutual...? There's a pause at that. And a frown. And while she did notice the odd smell, even the lack of a certain thing, it was also noticed how much of the smell was burning diesel and metal, which could be masking the burning flesh. Or at least the scent of it. Either way, the fists are still balled up. And yet, as she stares directly at the fake frenchman, she does ask a single, one word question. "Why?" “Because,” he replies, imitating her sparseness of words, standing a few yards from her, hands clasped behind the small of his back and staring at her eyes. The wind blows bits of icy snow around his figure most dramatically, and he seems all enigmatic and cool. Then the flying saucer drops at his side, producing spindly insectoid legs to land gracefully, and coincidentally splashing the man in white with slushy snow, completely spoiling his pose. “Hrm...” grunts the man. “I think EVA is inviting you for a ride,” he comments. “I am Fantomex, by the way.” As confirmation the flying saucer leans forward so Laura can climb to the disk, and a door opens on the upper half of the sphere. And as Fantomex looks into her eyes, he will see the cold determined eyes of someone who has killed, who could kill again, and who is barely holding themselves back right now, all without even the faintest hint of anger or any other emotion at all. Then, on top of that, even after EVA lands, Laura still doesn't move towards the disk. Instead she just sniffs the air, trying to get the ship, and its owners, smell. "No." There is no smell at all from either. But there are some scents there, of cloth, leather and gunpowder from the man. Of food and tools from the inside of the odd-looking airship, a flying saucer that seems to be made of shifting circuitry and wire, complex like a living being. “No?” Fantomex climbs to the disk. “We can’t be here for long, young lady. The ones that send the drone will send others to investigate. And I’d like to talk to you about... mad science, super-soldier projects running haywire, and a living weapons project that has been going for over seventy years now. Creating people like you and me.” The lack of a scent is noticed. And if anything it raises Laura's suspicions to a whole new level. But the claws don't come out. Not just yet. And it's not like she's afraid of the police. Or who /else/ might respond. Not when you consider what else is on the lake (just not at this park). Then again, odds are Fantomex doesn't know about them, thus... Thus she does get onboard. There's a bit of a pause, but she does climb onboard EVA. And her hands are still balled up into fists as she does. The flying saucer takes off and Fantomex invites Laura to go inside with a gesture. Going first if she seems distrustful. Inside there are a few seats placed in a circle, facing to the walls where several spacious windows appear, transparent just from one direction. “Have you heard of Operation Rebirth? It was how it began. A joint project to create super-soldiers between the United Kingdom, Germany and the United States. When the war started, the American branch had an impressive success, they called him Weapon One. Now they call him Captain America.” If that story is news to Laura, she doesn't show it. Instead, she just moves over to the side for the moment, and takes a seat, listening. But otherwise... No reaction. No emotion. She's just strangely silent... The saucer is moving over the snowy forest, heading south at maybe fifty miles per hour. It is quiet and warm in there, the machine almost completely silent. “There were others later, after the war. You might have heard of some of them. Of course the Russians also had their own projects, so the arms race gave them a large budget. Who, you ask?” See, if Laura is not contributing, Fantomex will make up for her silence. “Weapon Plus. That is the name of the agency behind. Notice Weapon X came before people talked about an X-gene. That is because X stands for 10. Wolverine was the product of the tenth iteration of the project. Weapon Ten is still alive, because Wolverine was quite the success.” "So I would be weapon Ten Twenty Three then?" is asked as Laura sits there, apparently taking this in. Or at least it looks like she's taking it in, since well... SHe's just sitting there, showing no sign of emotion. All though odds are she is thinking about it, in one way or another, especially with how she keeps both eyes locked on Fantomex. “Yes. Maybe.” Fantomex looks at her from his seat. Human necks do not bend that far. “Dear girl, I have no idea if the crazies of the Facility are aware they started as a branch of Weapon Plus. Perhaps, perhaps not. It is not easy to dig for reliable information.” He sighs, “I am Weapon Thirteen, the final product of half a million years of guided mutant-machine evolution. All in a sealed, time-accelerated environment. Stealth fighter, assassin, infiltrator. Ah... it was boring. I ran away, and now I am a thief. From France. So much more exciting.” French, seriously. "..." And as she sits there, Laura finally rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Why? The whole French thing possibly. Otherwise... Otherwise there's no real reaction. No surprise. No nothing. It's not like she knew any of this stuff, she didn't. But at the same time, when it comes to The Facility... Weapon X... Weapon Plus... For a whole lot of reasons there's very little they could do, or create, that would surprise her. Thus she just continues to listen. And to wait. Just in case. After all, it's not like this guy has done /ANYTHING/ to prove that he's trustworthy and has no connection to Weapons Plus anymore. Or at least nothing that The Facility wouldn't do if they found her and were trying to get her back. “For some reason, they didn’t like me leaving,” comments Fantomex laconically. “Imagine that, hmm? I bet you do.” Beat. “Of course it could be all I am telling you is an elaborate, overcomplicated falsehood and we are about to arrive to a Weapon X detention installation instead of Central Park,” which is what the windows show. “What do you think?” "I think that if we land anywhere other than Central Park, Weapon X, a telepath, and possibly others including members of SHIELD will be there in under an hour to clean house." is said as Laura stands up. And on top of that, she takes a few steps towards Weapon XIII before... *SNIKT!* Two claws pop out of her right hand, and she levels them right at him. "That is if there's anything left of it, and you, when they arrive." “No, they won’t,” replies Fantomex, undaunted. “You can’t track me, he can’t track me, no one can. I am impervious to telepathy. EVA is invisible and undetectable unless I want her to be seen. And dear girl, I am three iterations of Weapon Plus ahead of you.” Also, he is not in that seat, suddenly he is in the seat at her left. “Good thing we /are/ in Central Park, hmm?” They have landed, and the door opens, bringing cold, cold air and the scents and sounds of the park. “You mentioned him, hmm. Are you in touch with Wolverine? No offense, but you are too young for what I have in mind. I am tired of being a fugitive. And some people... some places are simply too evil to exist.” "No. You are three generations ahead of /HIM/." is said, with no doubt or hesitation in her mind that XIII knows just who she's talking about. After all, who wouldn't be thinking about Logan when it comes to Weapons Plus and its 'generations'? Still, there isn't even a startle at the sudden appearance of Fantomex elsewhere. Nor does she even blink at his question regarding if she's in contact with her genetic donor or not. On the other hand, at the mention of her being 'too young' there is a bit of a twitch. And it's an angry twitch. "Do not judge me because of my age." “Apologies. I can’t stop myself, it is those pesky ethics I have been learning since I left home. They cling. Like fungus. You seem too young to me.” He must be smiling behind his mask. “Wolverine is three generations behind me, but he has a... reputation. Fearsome reputation. Decades of experience and adamantium bones make up for a good deal of firepower, I suspect.” There's something inbetween a shrug and a nod at that statement. And while Laura could point out that she was as good, if not slightly better than Wolverine back when he first had his adamantium bonded to him, back when she was being trained, she doesn't point that out. After all, it does pay to be underestimated in her experience. Instead she just lets the fact that she isn't Logan hang there in the air, unsaid. "I am young. But if you have learned who I am... What I am, then you know some of what I have done too." “Some,” replies Fantomex, his tone ambiguously neutral, decidedly unconvinced. “Weapon Fourteen is already in New York. Perhaps deployed. I am amusingly confused about her... their situation. But I doubt it is a coincidence. Weapons Twelve to Sixteen were designed to exterminate mutants. I want a chat with Wolverine. I was looking for him when I... EVA intercepted the drone infostream. A fortuitous happenstance.” Yet again, there's silence. And Laura does not say what she may or may not think about /THAT/, or her feelings regarding it. Instead, eventually, there's a slight nod as she turns and looks away. And as she does so, she exposes her back to Fantomex. "Do not look for where things are. Look for where they aren't. Where things are missing." "I can do that," replies the white-clad man. "But pass the message; you have my card in your pocket." With just an email address, but it should be enough to set a meeting. "If he agrees to bring you in, we can talk again." Considering that Laura probably needs to bring this to him (that is if Fantomex doesn't get ahold of Logan on his own), odds are she'll demand to be brought in on this. No matter what it is. Not that it needs saying. Instead she just sort of stands there, looking at the wall where the door she entered was, even as she asks a potentially loaded question. "Anything else?" The door opens. Or rather, the door ‘grows’ from the wall and slides open. “Nothing I can think about, mademoiselle. If you don’t have any question, I bid you adieu.” He is again seated in his original seat. Or maybe he never left it, he is a sneaky one, that’s for sure. He may be sneaky. But Laura is /NOT/ afraid of him. Or surprised by what he does. Instead, she just leaves his 'ship' and walks away. Only as she does, she pulls out a cell phone, and makes a call to a number that is not saved on the phone. A number she dials from memory. And when answered, her message is brief. And left on a voice mail. "Decon. TP. Central Park. Transportation. Weapon X." Category:Log